


A Single Crisp Apple

by BlackIce_K1lls



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Friendship, Gen, Loss of Identity, OOC Possibly, Theorizing, Unintentionally Repressed Memories, based off the SU episode A Single Pale Rose, disguises, dont read An Idea Deer cuz it spoils stuff here, memories inside memories, memoryception, seriously dont, so you might know whats coming, they just wanted a fax machine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:42:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21897622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackIce_K1lls/pseuds/BlackIce_K1lls
Summary: Lucifer ends up getting redeemed somehow and Charlie makes the hotel to chase after him.OrAlastor has a secret, one that even he himself isn't aware of.
Relationships: Alastor & Lilith Magne, Angel Dust & Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Lilith Magne/Lucifer Magne, Lucifer Magne & Charlie Magne
Comments: 22
Kudos: 133





	1. Dreaming up a Signal

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, don't read "An Idea, Deer" before this. It'll spoil stuff. Other than that, I am completely new to writing Hazbin Hotel stuff. Please be kind but critique is welcome!

It was only a dream. Just a dream. Didn’t mean anything! Alastor’s dreams were full of trees and shed antlers but that didn’t mean anything.

Of course, when you’re having a dream of lady you never even damn met let alone her being your business partner’s mother: well, you’d have to be a little concerned. His smile didn’t falter, in fact, it widened.

From what he could tell, without hindsight because dreams, Alastor was just impressively juggling some apple for Lilith in such a fashion that the apples landed in a neat stack on a desk being him. She clapped and he bowed. The door sounded to open and they quickly got into chairs to cover for what seemed like harmless fun. The door creaked open, revealing a face of static but of a demon of some kind. His eyes glared at Alastor, yet Alastor simply waved hello at the demon, looking up from the piles of paperwork, smiling at his arrival. The demon seemed satisfied and left the room. 

Alastor and Lilith looked at each other and then burst out into a fit of giggles. He kept on laughing until he realized that the small, library like office disappeared into void. Lilith, following the room, was soon not on chair and fell off, still giggling. She fluttered into pages upon pages of a single page of something. One met Alastor’s face and he tore it off. A spell he could not read. 

The pages disintegrated into nothing and the apples he juggled came together yet more and more seem to come from nowhere. He couldn’t remember if he was smiling. The apples congregated more and more until they melded together into a massive deer, eyeless. It towered over Alastor, craning its head at him. It seemed to dash for him and he winced. He cracked his eyes open and found the deer had become snakes. Snakes?

One fell on his face and he yanked it off him but it turned into a staff. His radio mic? Why was this here? It was the least of his worries now. Alastor realized his hands, no, entire being, was changing. It swapped from himself, to someone in pink and white, to someone completely(or at least appearing to be) human. It wasn’t Alastor when he was alive; he was tanner that this Pantone 727. But then who?

Alastor gripped his head. It was pounding and it was painful. The swapping became quicker and faster. The pain spiked and rapped the inners of his skull. His teeth hurt and everything was spinning to him. He curled up instinctively and sprung outward back into being awake.

His blankets were a tangled mess and he was on the floor. He grabbed the side of his bed to his right and propped himself up. He gazed out the window in front of him, processing this dream. It was nothing of course. Dreams don’t mean anything. Yes, Alastor soon compartmentalized that experience under worthless and started his day, thinking nothing of it.

It didn’t mean anything to him, of course.


	2. Fluffy Disatisfying Nostalgia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggling to get the ball rolling here...

“Uuuuuuuugh. There hasn’t even been a new tenant since Al got here. How did we end up with so much paperwork?” Charlie was resting her head on her desk, verily through with all the paperwork she got. She sat up and gathered nearby papers to neaten up.

She sighed and grabbed a pen. Charlie probably worked for about an hour (really, to her, it was only like 5 minutes) before growing bored and sitting back in her chair. She stared at the ceiling fan, watching it twirl and spin in its fixed position, then allowed her eyes to wander her office. She still had some things to clean up, unpack, and make it look professional. Her office was about half unpacked at the moment while Razzle and Dazzle were outside, bodyguarding as usual.

Charlie spun in her chair, slowly coming to a stop when she got dizzy. She was bored. Like really bored. She knew that all this hard work would only be effective if she actually worked but this boredom was really weighing on her. 

Then a box caught her eye. She didn’t quite remember packing that but she felt compelled to look into it, maybe even finish unpacking the office while she was at it. Charlie stood up, grabbed the slightly ajar box, tilted it a bit, then sat the box down on her desk while she leaned back in her chair. She flipped the box open with ease (Charlie wondered why she didn’t properly pack this one. It didn’t even have any tape) and was hit with a wave of remembrance.

It was just kids stuff: old bows and toys, dusted dolls and whatnot, scrapbooks and storybooks, picture frames and burned feathers, kazoos and untuned instru- Wait. Burned feathers? Why would those be there?

Charlie raised an eyebrow and hesitantly grabbed the file folder holding the feathers. The feathers were definitely charred and ashy, stored in plastic bag that was taped at the top. She flicked the folder wider, which included a newspaper article dated to the early 2010s, a little before she met Vaggie. The photo on it showed a scene of a man dressed in white, bursting in a visual cacophony of fire and light contrasting against the naturally red sky.

Oh.

That was her dad’s redemption from Hell. The day he left. 

The severely repressed memories of him flooded Charlie’s mind. Of course she won’t take shit from other demons. Of course she won’t question his constant absentee nights. Of course she’ll still go on with this plan of hers even if it seemed stupid to everyone around her. Most people here are demons. How are they, in this ABSOLUTE FUCK FEST SHIT BAG OF A HOME, GOING TO GET REDEEMED? 

Then he was gone. Without any explanation as to why, he just was. Charlie merely got a phone call to him, but she ignored it. She was too nervous to answer. She got to the voice mail sooner or later but he was gone. Once she started listening to her dear old dad’s message, everyone was looking up at the sky. A display of seemingly fireworks strapped to a man in the sky, exploding in a glorious and spectacular way, with the man disappearing with only traces of charred feathers left behind.

**“Sorry, princess, for bothering you. See you soon… Okay bye…”**

The tone of her phone ending the voice mail did not move Charlie for that day. She merely held the phone close to her ear before someone forced her out the building. She definitely cried for several nights, staying by her mother, who took an indefinite leave on concerts and so. Charlie didn’t cry anymore there after, but then came to a stunning epiphany. People in hell could really be redeemed. Even someone like her father.

Charlie held the folder in her hands, thumbing the newspaper. She did not cry, nor did she smile. She simply stared in an emotion she could not describe. Longing? Grief? Charlie couldn’t tell you.

She just couldn’t.


	3. Statistically Unsure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays I guess? Here's a chapter!

Vaggie, for very obvious reasons, didn’t trust Alastor. Scratch that, still doesn’t trust Alastor. From his unwavering smile to his cannibalistic eating habits, she was still surprised Charlie agreed to him. Which brings us to Vaggie looking at a computer with statistics and info on the Radio Demon himself. (It’s Hell, no one cares about privacy anymore)

It was somewhat odd info, strangely. For starters, Alastor never officially checked his records in until the 1950s, 20 years after he arrived in Hell. Secondly, those said records were unclear. The cause of death was bullet to the head but never elaborated on the context. The life story section held promise but the information there was muddled too. No childhood info was shared nor were any specific events. The only things that were explained were his sins and his parents’ names. Info on his background was scarce to say the least.

“Ey, uh, whachya doin’ with the strawberry pimp’s files?” Vaggie flinched, finding Angel Dust behind her leaning on her chair.

She huffed. “I still don’t trust that guy, or you to a lesser extent, so I’m looking for things about him.”

“Alright. So, uh, what’s wit the graphs then, huh?” Angel gestured to the computer which had multiple graphs, obviously.

Vaggie pointed to the top right graph. “That’s the graph of all the broadcasts of him since he got here and subsequently his activity for the last 80 something years.” She then moved to the graph to the left of it. “These are all the broadcasts’ viewership.” She shifted to the graph below that one. “And this one is a graph of all those broadcasts’ lengths.”

Vaggie sat back in her chair and Angel narrowed his eyes at the screen. “So Smiles gots to doin” lotsa shows when he first got here and then again in the early 2010s but the longer shows are when he was the least active?”

Vaggie nodded and pointed to the third graph. “Yeah, in the years leading up to major spike of the 2010s, he was very active with more shorter broadcasts but he started doing fewer but longer ones during the 70s and 80s. It doesn’t explain why though.”

Angel agreed and jabbed at the screen. “Mhm, yeah, all his viewers were keepin’ steady for a bit so I don’ see why he would amp up the torture. Except for maybe boredom.”

Vaggie glared at the screen for a moment before zooming in on the second graph. “Hey, there’s only one broadcast that no one saw somehow.” She reeled over the date and backed up. “No wonder; it was right after Lucifer…”

“Lucifer what?” Angel asked, prompting a glare from Vaggie. It took him a moment. “Oh, ya mean when Charlie’s pops exploded inta the sky? The deer boy made one right after that?”

She rolled her eyes and opened a file folder, double clicking on the audio recording that no one listened to on that mezmerizing day. “Since you’re already here, you might as well listen.”

**“Ow, ow ow ow, OW. Ow.” The sound of fabric scraping against concrete was heard. The mic that was supposedly recording made a feedback noise. “Is this working? Ah, it is! Ahem, greetings and salutations from the one and only Radio Demon! My name is Alastor M-“**

**A loud clang of metal and rustle of leaves were heard. “And… where am I?” The satisfying clicks of heels were sounded for quite a bit, minus the occasional screaming of the very recent news that Lucifer just got redeemed. Alastor may or may not have emitted a radio buzz that was supposed to sound like a question before a yelling was coming closer followed by a squelch of flesh and what sounded like stabbing.**

**It was literal radio silence for several minutes (literally just Alastor eating. Vaggie had to stop Angel from turning off the recording) before Alastor spoke again. “I’m sorry to disappoint my viewers, though really I’m not, but I’ll have to cut this show short! Everything is tasting of apples for some reason!” He burst out into a fit of laughter. “This has been the Radio Demon signing out!”**

A beat passed before Angel said something. “So that was… real fuckin’ weird.” He crossed both sets of his arms. “That was like 5 minutes of him mostly just eatin’ some random demon. What does that have to do with anythin’?”

Vaggie snapped her fingers. “That’s the thing though. It wasn’t a nothing broadcast. The circumstances are just to weird for it to just be that. It starts with him getting up from some pain and he continues on in an unfamiliar place. He never questions nor does he object to his situation. Fuck, he doesn’t even comment on Lucifer’s redemption despite him being informed of it. He’s not even acting like the demon we know.”

Angel blinked. “Yeah, he was jus’ mostly quiet, right? Pretty boy out here is runnin’ his mouth not as much Niffty but he still talks more that this. Either that, or he straight up doesn’ care ‘bout shit like this.”

Vaggie shrugged. “Maybe. Am I just being paranoid then? Am I just being overprotective of Charlie?”

Angel shook his head. “To answer your firs’ question, maybe. For your secon’ one, just a tad. Itsy bitsy yea. But I see what ya mean. That pimp there has some weird things going on about ‘im and I kinda wanna help.”

Vaggie was quiet for a brief period, sinking in Angel’s words. “You want to what?”

Angel smirked. “Hey, I learned how to pick up dirt on people, why don’ I help you with… whatever… this is?” He gestured to all the files and evidence Vaggie had on her desk. “I’m bored anyway.”

Vaggie rapped her fingers on the desk and then gave a saccharine smile. “I didn’t know you’d want to do something other than sex and drugs. Fine. You can help me. On one condition, we don’t tell Charlie.”

Angel pursed his lips then shrugged. “Whatever ya say baby.”


	4. Thicker Rind

There have been weirder things Angel has seen in both his life and unlife. Fetishes… uh, mostly fetishes but he doesn’t judge, food combinations like Oreos and spaghetti(he just feels the disgust radiating off the concept), art, you get the idea.

Why am I talking about this? Well, I need to give some context then. So, let me back up a bit.

So Vaggie and Angel decided to spy on Alastor as best they could, by which I mean Angel spied on him while Vaggie tried to pull up more information on our dear old Radio Demon himself. 

Angel, being as discreet as possible, brought up a magazine and sat as close as he could to the bar while Alastor walked up to said bar. He smiled as always and ordered moonshine while Husk did so without giving a fuck. Angel was already getting bored but still held on because he was mainly helping Vaggie for the same reason.

Alastor took a swig of that burning alcohol and made a confused expression, albeit still maintaining his smile. This caught some of Angel’s attention while Alastor took another, slightly more hesitant sip. Alastor blinked and stared at the glass in confusion, swirling the contents around. Then he turned to Husk and asked:

“Husk, are you sure this is whiskey?”

Husk glared then frowned, looking at the bottle he poured. He pointed to the label. “Uh, yeah. It’s moonshine, I’m not blind. Why’dya ask?”

Alastor looked on, wide eyed, then shook his head. “Oh nothing, nothing! Just making sure you got the right one!” Then he downed the rest of the drink, rapped his the tips of his fingers on the bar (it was awkward so I’ll spare you the details), stood up abruptly, and headed for the kitchen.

Angel followed suit, ditching the magazine, opting to look through the fridge and peek over the fridge door while Alastor did his thing. Alastor, meanwhile, sifted through the fruit bowls and picked out a lemon. He held it for a bit before biting into it, rind and all, like an apple. Angel Dust just had all fear force itself into his mind while Alastor stood for a good 5 seconds, before chewing and swallowing the bite.

Alastor looked at the lemon, and blinked, as if he was trying to process something, and then took another bite, making the same face he made when he drank the whiskey. Angel, by now, was just scared because this man just started eating a lemon like a fucking apple. Like he knew Alastor didn’t like sweet things but he didn’t know why the fuck he would eat a lemon like that. Angel has seen weirder stuff than what he’s seeing right now but, FUCK, watching this made his fur stand up on its ends.

Alastor, after taking two bites, threw the lemon in the trash and grabbed an apple. He ate it normally this time, maintaining a smile on his face that was a bit forced if you stared and survived long enough. The rest of the day was pretty normal if you could put it like that. I mean like, for the rest of the day, nothing else weird happened except for polka music and the occasional radio station being emitted from Alastor’s mic and maybe himself. But that’s like it.

Angel stopped following when Alastor went to his room because, even though Angel could spy through the window, he also wanted to live and not suspiciously scale a building so he stopped there.

Angel and Vaggie met up in her room, where Vaggie had an entire corkboard dedicated to the Radio Demon. It was mostly pictures tacked on with red strings twisting and connecting them and a few notes here and there with copied information but, GOOD LORD, there were more pictures and data than you think could fit on a cork board.

“Holy fuck.” The words slipped out of Angel Dust. “This is more elaborate than my pops and his hitlist. How’d ya do this in a day?”

Vaggie shrugged. “You have your priorities and I have mine. Anyways, did you find anything?” She picked up a notepad and pen.

“Oh, uh... He eats lemons like apples, uh, sometimes radio stations and polka music starts comin’ outta ‘im… he likes moonshine? Whiskey, I think? uh…” Angel threw his hands up. “And that’s, that’s like it.”

Vaggie made a face that is implied to be a mix of confusion and shock. “He ate… a lemon… like an apple.”

He nodded. “Yeah! Like, he just bit into it, without like even takin’ the rind off. He just ate it. Then he stared at it for like 5 seconds before tossin’ it and eatin’ an apple instead.”

Vaggie stared at Angel in some form of shock, disbelief, and disappointment. She shook her head, groaning, and wrote some stuff down while Angel elaborated on the odd yet seemingly irrelevant information he found.

Alastor simply wondered why the whiskey and lemon tasted like apples.


	5. Faxed and Axed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how fax machines work. I guess Al's shadow is like a hammerspace but also a mindscape? 
> 
> Anyways, last update of the year! Hope you like!

Given that a lot of demons still use fax machines(because some are just old, those demons are old) means that Charlie also has to use them. She never quite understood how it worked but she still had to use them regardless. Alastor usually used them to give her copies of documents that he can’t be bothered to physically print and give out to her. There was usually a small deer hoof mark on one of the corners for Charlie to tell if it was from Alastor. Though recently she’s been getting really cryptic faxes from him.

Charlie slumped in her seat as her eyes glossed over the several papers Alastor faxed her this week (a record since it’s usually none). One was a ‘I need to tell you something’ but when she confronted Alastor on the matter, he was confused and didn’t quite understand what she meant. Another was ‘I can’t tell you as I am but it’s important’ and Charlie was equally confused on the matter. Most were just papers about how he can’t communicate what he needs to but Alastor kept getting continuously confused whenever Charlie confronted him.

A shifting and jutting sound came from her left, signifying to Charlie that another fax was coming in. She sighed and got up, yanking the paper from the machine and looking over it. There was a deer print on the bottom lefthand corner. Her heart dropped once she read over the message. ‘It’s about Lucifer and Alastor never knew but he does in his shadow.’

“Uh… Alastor!” Charlie stuck her head out of her office, somewhat shocked at Vaggie and Angel Dust at her door with Alastor running up behind. “Vaggie? Angel? Nevermind, Alastor?”

Alastor wormed his way between the two demons in front of her. “Yes dear?”

Charlie looked upwards and shifted her eyes, then raised the paper in her hands at him. “What’s in your shadow?”

Alastor grabbed the paper, subsequently have Vaggie and Angel look over his shoulder, and all three looked at it. They all made equally confused expressions before Alastor gave the paper back. “Dearie, I’m not sure what this paper is talking about but all that’s in my shadow are just things I keep on hand. Nothing about some knowledge about your father whatsoever.”

Angel pointed across the room. “Then why’s Charlotte’s thingy sendin’ another one?” He dashed across the office and snatched up the paper. “Ugh, nevahmind. It’s just some weird picture.”

Vaggie stomped up to Angel and seized the message. “Let me see that. Uh, it’s from... Alastor?”

She held up the parchment which was simply a black and white picture of an apple with a deer print on top followed by an X and a question mark below it and signed with the usual deer print at the left hand corner. Alastor took a step back, his smile wavering, and he looked down at his shadow, who was bewildered at the situation. Charlie blinked, took the paper, looked it over, and was just as confused.

Alastor stood up straight. “That’s impossible! I’m here and my fax machine is in my shadow. How could I have possibly sent that?”

“Maybe ya sent it with ya own shadow?” Angel asked, skeptical of his own explanation.

Alastor shook his hands. “Here, I’ll take it out now.” He began to take out various items. “It’s right here! No, okay it’s here! Ah, no, not that either. Maybe it’s- no. Uh…”

After taking out a violin, a shirt, Angel Dust’s drugs, a muzzle, and a pair of gloves, it became apparent that the fax machine wasn’t where Alastor thought it was. Charlie raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the paper, to which it still made no sense. The sound of clicking and whirring signaled that another fax was coming in and the quartet awaited the message, with Vaggie grabbing it as soon as it was out. The deer print was in the top lefthand corner of the paper and the paper bared a very strange message, stranger than the rest.

‘Jump into the hole that is the shadow and discover the answers in the guts of the deer.’

Alastor blinked, glancing at his shadow for a quick moment before grabbing Charlie by the shoulders. “Charlie, my dear!”

Angel scanned the other faxes on Charlie’s desk while Vaggie glared at Alastor. Charlie shifted her eyes and spoke. “Yes?”

“Charlie, I may not know what exactly is going on in there but what I do know is that I need that fax machine! So all four of us are jumping into my shadow!” he announced.

Angel raised a hand. “Uh, why all four of us?”

“To cover more ground of course!” Alastor let go of Charlie. “Once, I went in there looking for a cookbook and I was there for HOURS ON END!” A laugh track played from him and he took a few steps to his left, spinning his radio mic around. “Well, jump in!”

Vaggie tried to mediate the situation. “Wait, I don’t think we need to-“

She was cut off by Charlie ditching the paper and jumping in the shadow followed by Angel hopping over the desk doing the same. Alastor gestured to his shadow, inviting Vaggie along for the ride. Vaggie sighed, giving in and jumping in as well. Then Alastor fell backwards into his shadow, enveloped by the hole of the hammerspace.

A bright white light over took them before being greeted by a man in an endless void.


	6. The Wondrous World of Compartmentalizing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! We’re gonna have Alastor-ception for the next few chapters, baby!

This man was tall and lean, sporting fluffy, short brown hair and red tinted, oval glasses. His eyes were wide and brown. He wore a red pinstripe vest over a white button up with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into some black slacks fitted with a black belt with a gold buckle and black dress shoes. He bared a very strong resemblance to Alastor before Charlie realized that, duh, she’s in Alastor’s shadow. This must be a version of him.

Vaggie and the actual Alastor face planted right beside her, sluggishly getting up. The other Alastor held Angel Dust under his arm, scrolling through an endless wall of items. Alcohol, typewriters, corks, a phone…? You name it and it has a 50/50 chance of being there! This wasn’t good for Angel because he was about to be compartmentalized which was just weird. 

Angel objected, obviously, to which the other Alastor dropped the spider demon by his side and huffed. Angel frowned, getting up. “Ey, what’s the big idea huh? Grabbin’ me like that?”

“Ah na na na. Angel, we need to find my fax machine, not fight with a me inside my shadow.” Alastor and Angel proceeded to argue in such a petty way.

Vaggie stepped up to the wall of items, awed at the sheer volume of them. The other Alastor snuck up on her. “Like ya options?”

“Gah!” Vaggie flinched, glaring daggers at the Alastor in Alastor’s shadow. “…No, we just need to find a fax machine. Know where it is?”

“Hmm…” The other Alastor leaned against Charlie (who had followed Vaggie) and thought for a moment. By now, Alastor and Angel stopped fighting and joined the trio. The other Alastor scrolled the objects, muttering to himself and stopping at an arbitrary set, glossing over them.

Angel piped up. “Can’t find it?”

“No no! Hang on.” The other Alastor had his eyes hang over the items before a lightbulb (probably in the void too) went off and he snapped his fingers. He got off Charlie and went to the edge of the page. “Oh! It’s a facsimile machine! By any case, it should be right here!”

He showcased an empty spot in the list and blinked. “It should be right here!” he repeated, annoyed.

“Yeah, uh, we can see that.” Vaggie elbowed Angel in the space between his sets of arms.

“Well, where could it be?” Charlie asked, finally speaking.

The other Alastor held a hand to his face. “Well, it should be here! Unless… some other me took it…”

Our Alastor stopped him there. “There’s more of me here?”

Vaggie glared. “How do you not know how your own mindscape is organized?”

“Well it took a few centuries before doctors realized to wash their hands; forgive me for being slow to learn my mind’s inner tickings,” he snapped back.

The other Alastor shook his head. “Whatever the case, ya shouldn’t meet ‘em. Whenever I try ta organize ‘em, they always seem to disorganize themselves back. It’s a mess in there… That’s why I getta be the surface Alastor and the rest have ta be put away.”

Charlie sighed. “It doesn’t matter. We need to find that fax machine. Where are the others?”

Surface Alastor shrugged and gestured to his shadow behind him. “Same way ya got in. Though, are you sure ya wanna do this?”

Charlie threw her hands up. “Uh, yeah! The messages it keeps sending are weird and personal and I really, really, REALLY do not want to deal with that.”

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya dahlin’!

Then she jumped into the shadow. Our Alastor shrugged at Surface Alastor to which our Alastor followed Charlie. Followed by Angel and his desire to get away from the neat freak Al. Then Vaggie stepped up to the plate. Surface Alastor and her stared at each other for a bit before Vaggie begrudgingly jumped in too.

This time, they woke up to an Alastor sifting through a closet. He seemed engrossed in his activity but that wasn’t the weird part. Well, it’s already gotten a bit weird but still. This Alastor was in familiar attire, at least to Charlie. It was an outfit of mainly white and pink with gold accents, a popped collar, and a big top hat being held by him. The fitted Alastor turned to see the quartet, who were bewildered at his fashion choices. 

That didn’t matter to the fitted Alastor as he took to our Alastor and squealed, dropping his hat and grasping our Alastor by the shoulders.

“Ah, just what I was looking for!” To which he then swapped clothes with our Alastor, leaving him in a not great set of clothes. He still had his mic and all, but his clothes felt more restrictive than normal. The fitted Alastor paid no mind to his reaction nor the group’s reaction. He still went back to the closet, despite having the outfit he apparently needed.

“Smiles, I’m gonna be honest witcha, pink ain’t cha color. Nor is white.” Alastor simply glared while maintaining his smile at Angel.

Charlie raised her voice. “Um, Alastor inside Alastor’s shadow inside Alastor’s shadow? Have you seen a fax machine anywhere?”

The fitted Alastor bit on his index finger. “Fax machine, fax machine…” He shuffled through the suit racks, as if a fax machine would be there. “Hmm, nope, not here! You could step into my shadow to find a different me to talk to though!”

“May I still get my suit back?”

“No.”

The group collectively groaned as they had to go through another layer of Al’s psyche and Charlie nor Angel wanted to add ‘inside Alastor’s shadow’ to each version they meet. They still hopped in, slightly annoyed but determined for different reasons.

Though their annoyance turned to worry once they realized that they were the only person (besides the other Alastors) around.


	7. Phobos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess my schedule is every two days? I expected this to be slower... We're already almost halfway through.

Angel was on his own now, standing in a bathtub with the curtain drawn. He was obviously confused because of the absence of the rest of the group but there’s been weirder situations. He frowned, hearing a faint whimpering on the other side of the curtain. Carefully, he peaked out the side of the curtain, finding an Alastor sitting curled up on a toilet. This one was shaking, possibly muttering something that Angel couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter to Angel but it piqued his interest that this Alastor was in such a defensive position.

So Angel then did the logical thing, which was to throw the curtain open. This scared the defensive Alastor, who looked up immediately, though it seemed to be more in surprise. Angel, who was slightly concerned, looked around the room first. It was obviously a bathroom, and a fancy white one at that. To his left and bit further was the end of the room with a sink and mirror embedded into the wall and a door nearby. To his front was already what he saw. Angel clicked his tongue and glared at the defensive Alastor.

“So I take it ya ain’t got the fax machine?”

The defensive Alastor blinked. “W-what? No… I don’t…”

Angel stepped out of the bathtub and leaned against its rim. “Eh, worth a shot. What ya worried about anyway?”

The defensive Alastor gulped. “W-well, it’s the p-party outside. I… I shouldn’t have come here like _this_ … I’ve only had this for a year!” He gestured to himself. “I should’ve just gone as m-myself… But here I am, st-stuck inside my own bathr-room in my own house at my own party-ty… wasting time…”

Angel tilted his head. “Your own party? Well if it’s your own party, why’re ya being so, and don’t kill me for sayin’ this, pathetic? And what’dya mean by ‘had this for a year?’ What’dya have that so~ bad?”

The defensive Alastor coughed, ignoring Angel’s second question. “N-no, I won’t kill you for it. I just feel s-so paranoid that th-they’ll find ou-out.”

Angel’s eyes widened. “Find out about what? Your insecurities or somethin’ like that?”

He ignored Angel and continued on. “I mean it’s n-not _my_ party but also my party, y-you know? I’m not the p-person manning the party but I’m also s-supposed to be there, just n-not like _this_. None of my assistants i-informed me that it was happening t-today.”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Ya mean Niffty?”

The defensive Alastor’s face twisted in confusion. “Who?”

Angel waved a hand. “Nevermind. Anyways, ya know any other you that might have that fax machine?”

The defensive Alastor stared for a moment and then gestured to his shadow on the wall. “I-it could be-e with the, uh, that one but I don’t kn-know if you’d be c- comfortable with him… He’s not v-very good at re-remembering things…”

Angel stood up and shot his arms out. “What? C’mon, I’ve seen worse. I can handle it!”

The defensive Alastor looked down. “A-alright. Jump in…”

Angel grinned and jumped into the rabbit hole of the psyche.

-

Charlie woke up to a loud slamming and banging. She groaned, pushing herself off the cold tile floor. She rubbed her eyes which viewed the static-y outside world from glass pane doors. The rhythmic banging sounds were still going and Charlie decide to survey her surroundings.

It was seemingly a kitchen. A table and chairs set was behind her and to her right was a wood counter and fridge. The walls were in some sort of stylish red wallpaper though anything past any exits were complete static. The table had open magazines, alcohol, and unfinished food still on it, but when she tried to read the magazines she couldn’t understand a word of it. The contents had a few cooking utensils strewn about, knives out and pans closed. It was then when her eyes drifted over to the source of the loud, banging sound.

It was another Alastor, hunched over the counter, slamming his head on it. The items on said counter jumped with every bang but they seemed to be in some kind of loop. This made Charlie, reasonably, uncomfortable. He was muttering something about his mother and Charlie attempted to approach him gently.

She stepped towards him, outstretching a hand. “Um hello!” She was ignored. The sound was deafening. “So… um, what are you doing?”

This time he did answer, though he did not cease his activity. “I’m. Trying. To. Remember. Her. Name.”

Charlie gulped. “Uh, whose name?”

“My. Mother’s. Name.”

Her heart sank but felt weird at the same time. Alastor practically sweet mouthed his mother whenever he could and loved her to double death. It was odd to see him so focused on remembering something he should have ingrained into his mind already. “So, why are you hitting your head on the counter?”

“If I. Hit. Hard Enough. Maybe my. Brain will. Remember it.” He never stopped his task. “It’s important. To me.”

Charlie blew out a long drawn out sigh. “Ah, well, if you don’t mind me asking, um, do you have a fax machine lying around that you may or may not have been sending stuff to me without you knowing or…?”

He rhythmically banged his head on the counter still. “Not me. Can’t be. Been doing this. Since I was. Made. Can’t send. If I’m. Doing this.”

“Ah right… Um, do you know any other you that might have it?” Charlie nervously smiled, grasping her hands.

He slowed his bpm on the counter and pointed to his shadow on his right. “The one who’s. Worse than. Me at. Remembering. Might. Jump. In.”

“Ah great! Thank you. I hope you… remember her name…”

He stopped hitting his head and looked at Charlie. He stood up straight yet his hands remained firmly gripping the counter. There was no blood on his face nor a bruise nor fear in his eyes. He blinked and breathed gingerly. He gulped.

“I never do.”

“Ah… sorry…”

Then she left to jump into another layer of the beast.


	8. Deimos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yeah, where fuck does Eve go when she dies?
> 
> BTW, sorry for Vaggie's shorter segment. Hers is the most like the scene in A Single Pale Rose.

Vaggie woke up to a red hill, far from any buildings even if they were static. There was a river to her left and a path to her front. Turning, there was a radio station with a very tall radio tower. She was confused to say the least and bit worried that she was alone.

“This… this doesn’t look like a mess. It just looks… like the outskirts of Pentagram City.” She looked at the sky, still in its permanent red. She then heard quiet sobbing to her left. And she slowly rounded the corner of the station and found a sobbing Alastor, curled up and a hand messing with his hair. “Oh… that kind of mess.”

Vaggie stepped closer to the sobbing Alastor and sat down. “Hi, uh, Alastor inside Alastor inside Alastor inside Alastor’s shadow. Are you crying about the lost fax machine situation or…?”

She failed to think up another reason why he was crying. She may need to reevaluate how she views the man on the outside. The Alastor lifted his head and sniffed, tears pouring out from his eyes and his smile absentee.

“No, _hic_ … it’s Husk. What was I _hic_ thinking!? He shouldn’t have found out about _hic_ this.” He coughed, radio static flaring up. “If he _hic_ spills, I’m going to lose this _hic_ and be mocked for all _hic_ eternity!”

He grabbed Vaggie’s hair and blew his nose. Luckily, since this is a memory, nothing actually happened to her hair. She grimaced in disgust but continued on. “What did Husk find that would make you lose everything anyway?”

The sobbing Alastor sniffled and gripped his legs. “I’m going to lose _hic_ everything about this and more _hic_ , just like how I lost my- my- _hic_ \- What was it that you said?”

Vaggie raised an eyebrow. “Your fax machine?”

The sobbing Alastor held out for a moment then gulped. “My fax machine! Agh!”

He dissolved into louder sobs and curled back into a fetal potion. Vaggie tried to comfort him, but, since her visceral distrust of the Radio Demon was so strong and that her priority at the moment was finding a fucking fax machine, she wasn’t the greatest at it.

“Look, look, we’ll find that machine and you can have one less thing to lose. No more crying. You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. Okay?” She forced a smile at the Alastor, who awkwardly stared at her in despair. Vaggie wasn’t really one to smile.

He sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “ _Hic_ , alright. It might be with the _hic_ forgetful one. The one who _hic_ lost everything of his _hic_ mind.”

“Uh, unorthodox description but it’s something I guess.” Vaggie shrugged.

The other Alastor stood up and walked passed Vaggie, out of the shadow of the radio station and pointing to his own shadow. “Well _hic_ , jump in.”

Vaggie gazed for a moment, still a bit confused at how this Alastor’s actions. The face of desperation he wore negated her suspicion though and Vaggie jumped into the darkness, ready to continue forth.

-

Alastor awoke to a dark day. The clock was high in the sky and the body count high in numbers. The bodies were in static as he wouldn’t think that he himself would actually remember what his victims looked like. Though, upon closer inspection, the wounds on the bodies were slowly eating away at the demons, not chewed up or cut like his usual victims. He hesitantly walked further, starting to notice the weapons and tools poking from out of the ground, some even in the blocked out bodies. He turned to the clock, then realized in the number of days.

365 days before the next cleanse.

Alastor gulped, yet still retaining his smile, and walked on, standing straight up. “It better being in my office or with Niffty for cleaning or someone is pranking us. Seems about as likely as them being my repressed cleanse memories!” He yelled to no one in particular, stopping just short of the Alastor of this layer.

This one was just standing there, back turned, staring into nothing. His mic was by his side, bent with an exterminator tool nearby. Alastor stepped closer, right beside this shocked version of him. That one paid no mind to him, as he stared onward to nothing. Alastor still smiled but it wavered to more he studied this memory. This Alastor had the X on his forehead bleeding down his face in a hot pink. And even he tried to snap this one out of it, he wouldn’t even blink.

“Um, hello!” Alastor started. “You must be the me here, yes?” No response. Alastor stared awkwardly. “Do you by any chance know where a f-“

“We’re the only ones left.” He was interrupted. The sound of radio static was devoid in the other Alastor’s voice. “Heaven...”

Alastor blinked. “Pardon?”

“They came down in armies. We thought we could take them. They all started leaving. We almost thought we won…”

The other Alastor sat down, maintaining his empty gaze, followed by our Alastor. “There were so many bright white lights. Now she’s… gone… I thought they weren’t supposed go after his creations…”

The other Alastor balled his fists. “Why did I tempt her? Why did I do that? I should’ve never done it…”

“Oh…” Our Alastor rested his hands on his knees. “This is when mother... oh my… oh no…”

Of course, it was this one. He repressed this hard after it happened. Though that came with consequence. He can barley remember her hair, her eyes, her aura. He could always remember her smile, but even her name slipped from his mind. How she talked to him when he- When he- Strange… He can’t even remember being a child.

The other Alastor shook his head.

“Hmm, what is it?”

The other Alastor slumped. “No, no. Not her. Not real. Not a thing. Made up. It was Eve of… No, no, no… I did this. I tempted her because I was jealous.” He gasped.

Alastor held up his hands. “Look, I’d like to deal with this later and not when I’m looking for such a trivial thing, so I’ll get straight to the point. Do you have the fax machine with you or not?”

The other Alastor turned to him, pink blood still seemingly fresh and running down his face. His eyes held shock and fear while being wide and hopeless, like a deer in headlights. He shook his head, looking down.

Our Alastor sighed. “Do you know another one of us that might have it?”

The other nodded, gesturing to the shadow in front of him. Alastor gave in and went forth into yet another layer in the belly of the beast.


	9. Losing the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! Stuff's gonna happen baby and they won't be happy!

There were more annoying things. Angel being Angel, the Hotel getting blown up, Charlie’s ex, I could go on. But to Vaggie, nothing was more annoying in this moment than this Alastor. Like, she already didn’t like our Alastor but this one was just downright infuriating.

This Alastor had a nondescript demon next to hi, mauled and massacred. He held his mic with both of his hand and sat down on the sidewalk. He looked absolutely clueless. Then again, this memory was definitely Hell, just somewhere unfamiliar. It’s just… 

“No, Alastor. You are Alastor and I am asking you to tell me what you know.” She enunciated slowly with Angel by her side.

The clueless Alastor blinked then looked up at Vaggie. “I don’t know a thing! Eight thousand years just blip! Gone! That’s what makes me a success! At least that’s what the others say!”

“W-what? What? Eight thousand? The fuck does that mean?” Angel spat, leaning on Vaggie.

“Hm… I don’t know!” The Alastor threw up his arms, smacking Angel in face with his mic.

Vaggie shifted her eyes in disbelief and sighed. “Okay, new question, Do you know where the fax machine is?”

“Fax machine?” He thought for a few moments, looking up. After a while, a few seconds too many really, he spoke again. “What were we talking about?”

Vaggie scowled, balling her fists. “A fax machine. Do you have it or not?”

“Me…? Who am I again?” The fucker still smiled while asking it. Vaggie groaned and walked away with Angel following.

Charlie, on the sidelines, did not know what to make of the situation. She was glad this one was calmer than the one she met but it seemed that he didn’t retain any knowledge very well, even of himself. Her train of thought was cut off however by our Alastor falling right beside her from the sky.

“Oh, Alastor!” Charlie kneeled down. “Are you alright?”

Alastor ripped himself off the cement and nodded, holding a hand out. “Yes dear, I am ‘alright.’” He stood up and dusted the white restricting clothing put on him. He still wasn’t a fan of it. “What are the darlings doing over there?”

“Including the you… inside you inside you inside you inside your shadow or not?” Charlie got a little jumbled with how many layers they have gone through.

“Without.”

“Oh, um… I’m not entirely sure. Vaggie tried to interrogate the you here but he’s not very good at remembering things. She got frustrated and left so I don’t know what she and Angel are talking about.”

“Look, I’m jus’ sayin’ that there’s sumthin’ is goin’ on with Smiles over here and it’s not just the fact that he’s wearin’ ya girl’s pops’s clothes.” Angel whispered.

“I’d hate to say it but yeah. I was just hoping he had some sort of ulterior motive or something like that but it’s weird. The last one I saw was crying about Husk finding something out.” Vaggie also whispered, albeit more harshly.

Angel looked at Charlie and Alastor, who were looking at the other Alastor, then he looked back at Vaggie. “I say he gots himself a secret. The one I saw was hiding sumthin’ too and being a total wimp.”

Vaggie did a double take. “The Radio Demon? A wimp? Don’t make jokes. But I have to agree, it’s weird that they acted so… vulnerable. But what could be so bad that he could lose everything?”

Angel shrugged. “How should I know? The strawberry pimp’s weird. I say that he’s part’a Luci’s posse.”

“What? What make you think that? How could he even get close to him anyway?”

“Well, not sure about that but it explains why he’s so damn powerful. Maybe the big guy gave ‘im boost. An’ it ticks the ulterior motive box. I don’t know why but maybe he gettin’ intel on Charlotte to give to her pops…”

Vaggie’s face twisted in skepticism. “Okay, but that doesn’t explain why he would choose Alastor or the eight thousand years. Besides, the secret has to be something that would humiliate him, not make him even scarier. The one I met told me he’d get humiliated forever so…”

“Ya gotta better theory babe?”

“Maybe he is Lucifer?”

“Uh, but why would he be humiliated if that was the case? And how could he? Charlotte’s pops blew up in the sky and, last I checked, the pimp’s standin’ right there.” Angel gestured to Alastor.

Vaggie pulled on her hair, groaning. “I dunno. Look, for all I know, maybe he wanted to spend more time with her or something? Wait, that conflicts with his arrival in 1933…”

This conversation was not heard by Charlie nor Alastor, as Charlie simply said, “They’ve been doing that for a while.”

Alastor shifted the collar of his clothes and the hems of his gloves. He felt like not breathing in this thing. “Hm, yes. I’ll go talk to the… other me.”

“Oh, I’ll join!” Then the two sat on either side of the clueless Alastor, though Charlie hesitantly kicked the nondescript demon away.

He perked up, glancing surprised at our Alastor. “Oh my, my, my! Why, is it a mirror I’m looking at? Simply wondrous! It gets lonely down here when the others don’t want to ruin you!”

“Um, what?” Charlie asked, confused at the choice of words he gave.

Our Alastor’s smile became nervous. “Ah, no no no no no. I am not a mirror. I was simply wondering if you had a fax machine anywhere.”

The clueless Alastor threw his arms up and around the two. “Ah, what a shame! I wish you were. The others keep leaving me alone!”

Our Alastor pushed back on the other him. “Ah, yes, yes. A shame. Please answer the question. Do you have it or not?”

“Have what?” he asked.

“The fax machine,” Charlie replied, enjoying the embrace.

“What’s a fax machine?” 

Alastor chuckled, turning to Charlie. “I think it’s apparent that this one doesn’t have it.”

Charlie agreed, pushing the clueless Alastor’s arm off her. “Um, Alastor inside Alastor inside Alastor inside Alastor inside Alastor’s shadow? Do you know any other you here that might have it?”

The Alastor thought for a while, staring into the static abyss, oddly having a loud explosion stopped in time in the sky. He was blank for a bit before he popped back up with a wide grin. “Oh, I know the one who might have it!” He pointed to the explosion in the sky. “That one might have it!”

“Uh, the explosion?” Alastor also pointed to the sky. Charlie followed with her eyes.

The clueless Alastor nodded. “Yes, the explosion!” He stood up and pointed down at his shadow. “He’s there, but the others told me to never talk to him. He might have it! I hear him sometimes!”

“Ey, what’s goin’ on?” Angel asked. By now he and Vaggie’s discussion ceased and they were coming back.

The other Alastor stood tall. “The others say that he’s the secret but they never tell me what it is-“

“Or ya just forget.” Angel cut in, earning a jab to his ribs via Vaggie.

“But that one, yes that one, might-“ Then he suddenly blanked out. He came back but he scanned the quartet around him. He readjusted his coat and bluntly asked, “What was I talking about again?”

The group groaned collectively groaned (for the second time), gave up on talking, and jumped into the clueless Alastor’s shadow.

Into another layer I suppose.


	10. Hollow Covers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I underestimated the length of this fic. Anyways, we've got two more layers after this before we get back to Hell.

They were falling. Really fast too. It was a black void but they could all tell that there was something there at the bottom. Vaggie was praying that they won’t double die, Charlie instinctively grabbed her, and, surprisingl,y Alastor didn’t annihilate Angel when the spider demon held onto him. Alastor was flipping through the void (and by proxy, Angel). They were all screaming incomprehensible nonsense during the fall, mostly about the falling itself, and they really didn’t have a plan. 

Charlie squealed. “WHY ARE WE FALLING? WHY ARE WE FALLING?”

Vaggie tumbled about, trying to get her thoughts in order. “Uh, okay! Maybe since the last Alastor forgot what he was talking about, when we jumped in, this layer is trying to figure out where we’re supposed to go?”

“What kinda BULLSHIT ANSWER IS THAT?” Angel snapped, attempting to anchor Alastor’s spinning.

“Give her a rest, my effeminate fellow! We are in a part that I had NO IDEA existed! This is new to me t-“ Alastor was cut off by slamming into the ground. 

They had hit the floor? The ground? Whatever. Point is is that they’re not falling anymore and they were in a room. The room was decorated to say the least. Red wallpaper, velvet carpet lining the floor, a messy desk with papers strewn about, an yellow lightbulb lighting the room, a table with a tea set with tea still steaming, and about 2 bookshelves filled the room. On one end was another Alastor looking at a book. He looked very much like the surface one but his back faced the group.

Charlie groaned, pushing herself off the floor. “Agh, at the very least, we’re not double dead. Ahg…”

Alastor pulled Angel off him, readjusting his disliked suit that still didn’t belong to him. “Ah yes, at least we’ve found another me to talk too.”

Angel cracked his back and glanced over at the other Alastor. “Jeez, this fax machine better be the best fuckin’ thing in the world. We’re already like, what, 6 layers in?”

Vaggie nodded. “I have to agree. This is getting tedious.” She stepped up to the man. “Hey, Alastor number whatever, do you-“

She stopped. Looking over the mama’s shoulder, Vaggie could see him sketching a rough draft of what was the Radio Demon. Only, this should be a pre-1933 memory. As in he shouldn’t be dead right now. Aka, completely impossible in this time frame. She furrowed her eyebrows and took a glance at the man.

“Hey, sugar tits? Anythin’ holdin’ ya back?” Angel asked.

“Hey, what are y-“ Vaggie almost grabbed the man’s shoulder, who swiftly turned around and swiped Vaggie back. He shut the book and Charlie helped Vaggie back up. It became apparent to the group that this probably shouldn’t be happening. The man’s face was obscured by static, the sound of it growing louder with time. The walls collapsed back with a loud bang and the ceiling dissolved and group wisely decided to vacate the area and run away.

“I thought this would a simple and fun way to get some blackmail on you but I WAS WRONG. SO SO WRONG.” Angel screeched.

“What?” Alastor huffed.

“Okay, I have confession to make. Angel and I have been kinda stalking you for a while because I don’t trust you and Angel was bored.” Vaggie quickly got a hold of her own with Charlie’s help.

To Charlie’s current dismay, she asked harshly, “You what?”

Alastor waved his hands. “Look, normally I’d be INFURIATED at your actions, but right now I- ACK!”

“OW!”

“OOF!”

“FUCK!”

Their trains of thoughts were cut off by them all tripping over demons. Dead and bleeding ones. Not like the cleanse ones though with their burning flesh. They must’ve stumbled into another memory. They were tens, possibly a few hundred, demons slain, whimpering out as you went further in. When the piles upon piles of demons stopped, there was another Alastor, disheveled. He bore no coat and the rest of his clothes were ripped as well. Blood was squelched and splattered onto him as he turned, facing our group.

“Too much, too much, too much, too much, too…” He chanted over and over again. As did so, he started walking, then jogging, then running, then sprinting towards our group.

This is when our group makes a wise and stupid decision. They started running in the opposite direction. This obviously makes thmn run back to the man they were running from before. They turn back and the disheveled Alastor had already caught up to them. Our group was now kinda cornered.

“Wait, how long have you’ve been stalking him?” Charlie asked, stand back to back with the group.

“Charlotte, that ain’t the time to worry about that now!” Angel replied.

“Uh, yeah, we have bigger problems, sweetheart.” Vaggie said, as she attempted to deliver a kick to the man. But it was weird. Her foot went right through him, making a static noise. “Wha?”

Meanwhile, our Alastor was being gripped by the chanting Alastor, who was still chanting. The grip felt like it could break bones while the other Al pulled our Al closer. Our Alastor responded by kicking the other in the chest, flying this chanting being back.

“What? Whatever do you mean by ‘what’?” Alastor inquired, kicking his other.

Vaggie stammered. “No, it’s just- This one, he- Is yours fake too?”

Angel’s face twisted in confusion, looking at Vaggie and back at Alastor. “Um, no?”

By now, the man stopped moving and Alastor incapacitated his other. Vaggie brought a hand to the man and cut through him. Cut like butter but nothing moved. She tried punching him and her fist went through the man. 

Vaggie shifted her eyes, pulling back her hand. “I don’t think this one is real.”

“Why, but that’s preposterous! Why would there be a fake one?” Alastor stood over his other.

Charlie attempted to grabbed the shut book in the man’s hands, but that also turned to static. “Um, I see what both of you mean. I can’t even get a grip on him.”

“So somethin’ IS goin’ on, I see.” Angel concluded, pointing up.

Alastor tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Think about, right? We’ve been in here for who knows how long, goin’ through all these memories. But they’re wEiRd. Like, why the fuck would Al be paranoid about a party or cry about Husk?”

Alastor cut in. “I did what now?”

Angel ignored his question. “Exactly! It’s weird that he don’t remember doin’ stuff like that, right? Right?” Vaggie and Charlie nodded. “So, here’s the deal that I’m thinkin’ here. Smiles over here probably has something to do with Charlotte’s pops, ‘cause of the outfit thin’, m’kay? And whatever that thing is, is probably the thing that would humiliate him forever.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Charlie replied, “You’re excused.”

Angel paced between the group. “At some point, someone, and I still have no idea who, erases everyone’s memories of that thing. Maybe even adds some false ones to cover their tracks.”

Vaggie leaned against Charlie. “What makes you say that?”

“The guy the ya got frustrated with and the the man, that’s what. He kept forgettin’ stuff for no goddamn reason. Fuck, even our Alastor don’t remember some of this shit! Not even the cryin’ part! And the man might be a false memory ‘cause all the static stuff.”

Alastor spun his mic. “And your point is?”

Angel pointed at him. “Point is someone doesn’t want you or anyone else knowing about this thing ya got and, whatever it is, it’s gots to be bad.”

Vaggie facepalmed. “The first half of that sentence is an oxymoron…”

“You’re an oxymoron!” This prompted her to facepalm again.

Alastor stepped off his disheveled version. “Again, that’s preposterous. What would I have to hide?”

“Too much… too much…”

Angel shrugged. “I dunno. Other than ya tail, I can’t think of one.”

“Know too much… know too much…”

“Are we not addressing the fact that you two have been stalking Alastor?” Charlie intervened.

“You know… you know…”

“Look, whatever the case is, Angel is just proposing a theory. That’s it.” Vaggie stepped in.

“Well, it’s a horrible one then.” Alastor replied.

Angel piped up. “Hey, my theories ain’t trash!”

Charlie glanced at the other Alastor. “Uh, guys?”

“Well, make one that isn’t.”

“I know mine ain’t shit. I’m just saying’ that your memories are being weird as fuck!”

“Guys…”

“I don’t care if his memories are weird and your theories are shit. We’re here to find a fucking fax machine so that Charlie doesn’t get weird messages from you.” 

“Guys!” Charlie yelled, grabbing the other three’s attention.

“What?” they collectively asked, having their attention now being drawn to the other Alastor, who was sitting up but faced the ground.

“You know TOO MUCH.” The disheveled Alastor screamed, slamming his fists down, and cracking the void floor open.

The group fell into the hole, sans the other Alastor, and into another layer.


	11. Numbing Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : )

Charlie had nostalgia hit her like 5 times. Why? Well, waking up in your redeemed dad’s office was something that happened to her. Not the redeemed part, the waking up part, but I suppose that’s a given. She groaned, getting up. They hit pretty hard this time. Vaggie was rolling off a chair, Angel was standing high on the desk, and Alastor was splayed over the chair behind said desk.

“So, that was somethin’.”

Vaggie glared at Angel. “Something alright. So this is…?”

She looked over at Alastor, who simply stared before he realized what was the question. “Oh! I have no idea. I don’t remember this at all.”

Angel pointed. “See? Why the fuck would ya have these memories if ya don’t even remember them?”

Charlie put her hands up, walking forward. “Angel, let’s not theorize about the implications of forgotten and questionable memories for now. I just want to find the fax machine and leave, not have a nostalgia trip.”

“Well, we need to find the Alastor here.” Vaggie pointed out, following Charlie.

“And where would he be?” Angel asked.

“Found him,” Alastor quipped, looking behind the chair. He shifted the gloves and boots of his attire. Every second in this restrictive clothing choked him out and it was driving him nuts.

The other three got closer, peeking over and around the chair. Out on the balcony, stained glass doors high and tall opened on them, a pair dissolved into whispers. One was Alastor, obviously, but the other was a familiar face, mostly to Charlie. Lilith, her mother, held a book in her hands tensely and her face held uncertainty. Alastor was whispering and so our scene begins.

“… and then I’ll teleport, away from here. It’s going to be great.” He whispered, though the radio static was devoid from his voice.

Lilith looked up. “There’s got to be another way.” She looked down at the book in her hands. “Maybe-“

“Satan doesn’t care. No one does.” He cut her off. “This is Hell. If this really was supposed to be a world I rule, anything I’ve done here should’ve been meaningful, but it’s not. We can end it all right here, right now.”

Lilith played with the pages of the book. “Is that your only reason?”

He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “No, no. I want to make her believe and I don’t want to tie you down. I never see you.”

Lilith pursed her lips. “Ah, that… Do you think she’ll believe it? And even if I do get cut off from you, what do you think that me will do?”

“She might. Her optimism is unwavering. As for the other, I’m not sure. But that version will do something and she can do it. I know you can. We’ve survived everything the big guy has thrown at us. We can survive this.”

Lilith gulped and gazed upward. “You really want to do this?” He nodded. “Your status won’t matter after this.” He clasp his hands. “You can’t go back.” He smiled and continued nodding. “This will change _everything_.”

“I know. That’s what makes it exciting!”

“It really does.” She smiled and blushed, weighing the book in her hands. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

He smiled brightly and squealed. “Lili!”

She looked down, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m really going to do this.”

He widened his eyes and chuckled. “I can’t exactly make me forget myself.”

They hugged tightly and broke off to do their part. Lilith went to one side of the balcony, grabbing a lit candle from the table. He, in turn, went the other way stepping into the office and rummaging through the drawers, pulling out a line a fireworks. Lilith walked in too, leaving the book on the desk and sitting the middle of the room, a page in hand and the candle in the other. She froze, as her part was finished in this memory.

The group glanced back at him, whose attention was directed towards them. They flinched. He laughed.

“Sorry,” he said, pointing to Alastor. “I need that.”

Then he swapped clothes with the man, freeing Alastor from the claustrophobic clothing that wasn’t at all his style. The other left for the balcony again, returning with a big top hat and fax machine. He looked longingly, placing the hat on his head though his face was different now. Blonde hair rooted on a stark white face with rosy cheeks and yellow eyes.

He gulped, handing the fax machine over, to which Angel grabbed it. “Sorry for making you come all this way.”

“Wait!” Charlie yelled. He turned, expecting an answer. She could not say a thing, only staring at her dad in pure ignorance and awe as he walked away. She couldn’t tell you why she didn’t say anything. The biggest truth of her life slapped her in the face, dumbfounding her.

Lucifer chuckled, walked to step up on the balcony railing, and fixed the fireworks to his chest. He lit a match to the explosives and fell off the balcony.

With that, the scene ended, the memory deteriorated, and the group fell again down into the inky void. Silence was the only sound made. They landed in a long closet, lined with suits in varying hues of pinks and whites. On one end was a door and on the other was another Alastor. The last one, hopefully.

He was in front of a mirror, holding a red pinstripe suit over what he was wearing currently, a black coat with a high collar. It seemed he was debating the two outfits.

Vaggie got up first, using a stool as leverage. Her hand landed on a sketch, multiple sketches actually, of Alastor in varying outfits. Two that were most prominent were the ones the other Al had. There were other notes too like ‘tail?’ and ‘small or big antlers- decide!’ though it seemed those difficulties were sorted out already.

Our Alastor got up next, a hand covering his mouth and his mic gripped tight. His eyes were wide and darted around. With the hand plastered over his face, it wasn’t too difficult to think that he was shocked. 

Angel was already standing, having to try and not break the fax machine. It was heavier than he thought it would be. His face twisted in unease as he tried to process the new information, and his theories smashing something in his brain.

Charlie did not get up as quickly as the rest. Instead, she hunched over the carpet floor. It would’ve broken had this place not have been a memory, as she was trying to tear the carpet out. She grit her teeth and little horn stubs protruded from her forehead and she mulled over the truth.

“Charlotte…?”

Vaggie came closer, outstretching a hand. “Are you al-“

“Peachy!” Charlie yelled, sitting up. She pushed herself off the ground and turned to her lover. “I’m just… peachy! We just… need to go… We steady found what we needed!”

Vaggie blinked. “Right, right. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just, right as rain.” She stomped over the other Alastor. “You!”

The other saw her and gasped. “Me?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes you. Do know how to get out of here?”

“Ah, you’re not… Whatever. Moving on. Which do you think is better, pinstripes or overcoat?” The vocal dissonance was high with this version. He completely changed topics on her but before anyone could answer, he spoke again. “You’re right, black is intimidating but a bit too ‘edgy.’ Pinstripes are refined and dapper. I’ll go with pinstripes.”

He swapped out the clothes in an instant, leaving the overcoat in the hanger and the pinstripes on him. He turned the mirror, looking his hair. “Hm, I should change this too. It’s too ‘dark’ for this outfit.”

Charlie’s teeth dug into each other. She didn’t want to hear her dad- Alastor- Lucifer- Ugh. She didn’t want to hear this man ramble on about his appearance. She spoke, “Yeah, sure. Do you know how to get out of here or not?”

The other blinked and pointed to the other end of the closet. “That door over there lets you leave, though I’m not entirely sure what you’ll experience.”

“Great!” Charlie smiled, a forced one if you were paying attention. She waltzed over to the door, grabbing the fax machine from Angel’s hands and balancing it on her head. “C’mon, let’s go.”

She shut the door behind her, leaving the remaining three. Our Alastor still maintained his shocked expression, Vaggie crinkled the notes her hand, and Angel turned to the other Alastor.

“Okay, give it to us straight Smiles. What the fuck.”

The other stared like a deer in headlights. He lowered the hanger. “Excuse me?”

Angel threw his arms. “What. The fuck.”

Vaggie cut in, gesturing to the sketches. “I think he just asking why the fuck Lucifer is Alastor.”

“Alastor?” The name seemed foreign to him. “That’s a great name! Oh, wait. You met with… that one…”

He sighed. “Look, it’s not anyone’s fault but that previous version’s. We _made him_ just for some fun, alright? I don’t know why we kept going; we just did and then one thing lead to another and now you’re here.” The overcoat crumpled on the floor. “Don’t blame anyone for forgetting.”

“That’s it, huh? So I was just made for cheap fun?” Alastor finally said something. He spoke lowly and in a harsh whisper. “My entire existence. My very being. My dear, I’m a lie.”

Angel looked downward. “Al…”

Vaggie pinched her nose. “We should… we should go. Charlie’s probably waiting for us. Thanks for telling us.”

Then they left, leaving one the only surviving memories alone.


	12. In Which I Make the Worst Joke Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a while. I got burned out I think.

"Oh fuck!"

"Oh fuck is right. Ya just hit one of the most powerful demons in hell!"

"Shit shit shit shit. Where has he been?" Vaggie mentally panicked. Alastor had been gone for some time after the who fax machine incident and no one had any idea where he had been.

Alastor had been to some pretty fucked up places by the looks of it.

"Nifty!" She yelled. "Get a stretcher! Or a coffin! Either way, Alastor is kinda fucked up right now!"

-

Charlie felt conflicted right now. Sure getting hit by a car wouldn’t really be too much damage to a demon; they would just regenerate if it was too much. She's more or less surprised at how mangled Alastor looked.

"So..." Angel waltzed into the lobby. "We gonna talk about the whole 'where the fuck has the pimp been' or..?"

Vaggie sighed. "We'll just ask him when he regenerates or whatever."

"Okay." A beat of silence passed. "What about the whole not havi-"

"I literally just told you. We’ll ask him when he wakes up."

Angel was having none of that so he decided to think up theories on his own.

_'Kay, so I know he ain't the one who tore off his arms. You can't tear ya arm off with one arm._

_His face don't make sense though. If he got inna fight, that would 'splain his skull but not the color._

_Y'know, on second thought, why the hell was he still going after all that? Those injuries and fucknot. Maybe some Viagra or somethin' hehe._

_Shit! No, Angel! Stay on topic! No dirty jokes!_

Angel's brain continued to make some lewd jokes during his theorizing. Vaggie on the other hand was having her brain go a mile a minute with questions. Charlie was having a stone cold face. It was difficult to know what she was thinking.

-

He's tired. So so tired. His arm sockets hurt more so than his legs but thats mainly because his arms are currently tied with rope and not attached to his body anymore. He wasn't exactly sure what happened but he's pretty sure it bad to do with him being gone for who knows how long.

He thinks he ran into the V trio at some point. Maybe thats why his arms are not on him anymore. Doesn't explain why he's carrying them waterbucket style. Weighs down his neck. Really, his head was too fuzzy to really process what he's been through while he's walking down the sidewalk.

From and outsider's point of view, Alastor looked pretty intimidating, probably more than he has ever been before. Bone jutted out from his arm and arm sockets, his legs bended in awkward ways (kinda like a deer, but who tell the Radio Demon that?), sinew and tendons grasped his clothes, and his faced was bashed in, the affected skin turning a stark white.

How the man was still going was a mystery to anyone who saw him. Maybe the adrenaline was keeping him up and running.

So you're probably wondering where is Alastor going. To the Hazbin Hotel ya fuck. With half his face crushed, it was pretty difficult to see or walk straight. He would focus on a point but then everything else got all brighter and fuzzier. Needless to say, Alastor was shambling around like a zombie. It’s times like these where he wishes he had his mic.

Alastor ends up at building that looks like the hotel. His vision is still shit and he is still regenerating, I think, so Alastor’s view isn't the most reliable. He feels his legs buckle and then...

He gets hit by a car. A limo to be exact.

"Buck!"

"A deer!"

"A male deer, here!"


End file.
